The Keep
by Gemmi92
Summary: Jon Snow encounters a young woman before the attack on Craster's Keep. Jon/OC
1. Chapter 1

Jon Snow was no fool. He knew that attacking Craster's Keep would take precision and time. It would also take careful planning. He had done his best not to rush his men into anything. He only had so many men and he could not afford to lose them to Karl and his band of outlaws. He had demanded for them to wait until nightfall to attack. Attacking them when they were vulnerable seemed like the best idea, and the most sensible idea.

It was only when he wandered through the forest, his feet crunching in the snow did he heard footsteps around him. He had left his men to rest, deciding it would be for the best. They needed to be ready to attack when the time came. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword. He was ready to draw it if necessary.

But he had no chance. He looked to the side at the figure running through the forest. He watched how she tripped over her own two feet and landed in the snow. She scrambled around in the cold and turned her head over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and tears appeared to be streaming down her cheeks.

Jon rushed after her as she scurried in the snow, falling on her face once more.

"You're alright," his voice spoke in a low and commanding tone. He bent down into the snow as she scurried onto her back, her arms outstretched behind her as fear rose in her eyes. "I said you're alright...you can trust me..."

"Who are you?" she snarled at him and he looked taken back by her bluntness.

"Jon Snow." He said quickly. "I am a man of the Night's Watch."

Her eyes seemed to widen even further with fear then. Shaking her head back and forth, it took her a few moments to inhale sharply and speak;

"Are you as bad as them?" she wondered in a small voice. "Is that why you're here?"

"The men at Craster's Keep?" he tried to clarify from her and she nodded to him. "I am here to stop them from hurting the women there. They killed the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

"You think that is all they have done?" she checked with him and he began to stand up. He offered her his hand and she rejected it, preferring to stand on her own accord. She dusted the snow from her body, but her face was pale and the cloak she wore was nowhere near sufficient to keep her warm once night fell.

"Are you from there?" Jon tactfully asked, not intending to ask whether or not she was one of his wives or just his daughter.

"I ran," she whispered. "One of them took me outside...he...he was fat and horrible...I kicked him and ran. I should have stayed...but-"

"-You did the right thing," John assured her in a soft voice. He did all that he could to bring a smile to his face, feebly attempting to reassure the girl. She nervously tucked her hair behind her ears, wondering whether or not she could trust the man in front of her.

She vaguely remembered him when he had come to her father's keep before. He had instantly disliked the dark haired boy.

"You should come back with me," Jon suddenly urged her. "I can keep you safe. I have other men with me. The outlaws will not hurt you now."

"He could be chasing me," she whispered and Jon shook his head, removing the cloak he wore from his shoulders. He handed it to her and she placed it around her shoulders, holding it tightly against her chest.

Jon couldn't help but how fair she looked. Her skin was as pale as the snow, but her brown hair only contrasted that. Her eyes were wide and blue and looked too large for her face. Her lips were clearly chapped and she looked thinner than she should be.

"He won't get you," Jon replied in a simple promise and she shook her head.

"How do you know that?" she wondered back from him. "You don't know him...one of them...he..."

"I know all of them," Jon responded. "I know how they think and I know how to stop them."

"Do you?" she asked back. "How can I trust you?"

"Because I am telling you the truth," Jon assured her. "Please, come with me and I can keep you safe. You can come back to Castle Black-"

"-And do what?" the girl snapped back. "The crows there have hurt us...and now you want to take me back to crows?"

"We are not all like that," Jon promised her and she shook her head. "It is only the men there who are like that. You can trust me...but...what is your name?"

She looked suspiciously at him for a few seconds before speaking as Jon held his hand out to her, trying to gain her trust. He knew it would be difficult. He could see from the bruise which covered her cheek that she had suffered pain.

"Anya," she whispered.

"Anya," Jon replied. "You have my word that no harm shall come to you, but I need you to come with me so that I can protect you. I have no intention of hurting you or allowing anyone else to do you any harm."

Slowly, she placed her fingers inside of his. She knew what was out there and she knew that it was dangerous to go alone, but she had been willing to do so if it stopped the crow from hurting her. She had ran without thinking, but she looked to the man in front of her and she had an incline that he was honest. She only hoped she was right.

"There are eleven men," she suddenly blurted out as Jon dared to wrap his arm awkwardly around her shoulders and guide her through the snow. "Eleven of them are at the keep...but they are always drunk...they rape the younger wives..."

"And did they rape you?" Jon asked the awkward question. He received a shake of her head.

"I ran before they could," she spoke in a low voice. "Even father never touched me...he was going to...before he died...mother had spoken of running before she died. She told me that there was more to this life than being his whore..."

"She was right," Jon promised her. "But you have nothing to fear now."

"Nothing?" she checked with him. "There is always something to worry about."

Jon couldn't help but agree with her as she tripped over the ends of her skirt once more. She fell forwards and stumbled on the ground before she pushed herself to stand once more. Jon bent down to help her to full height, watching as she looked him in the eye and did her best not to fear what he could do to her.

"Are you injured?" Jon wondered and she shook her head.

"I am fine," she replied. "I just can't walk in the snow too well."

Jon nodded and kept his arm around her waist to keep her upright. He looked behind for a few moments, wondering if anyone was following them like she had feared. Shaking his head, he looked down at the brunette who had her eyes on the ground. How many more women had been subject to vile treatment? Jon didn't know if he wanted to find out, but he did know that his grip on Anya increased as he led her back to his men.

...

A/N: I hope you do review the first chapter! And I hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you think you can beat them?" Anya dared to ask Jon once they had begun to walk at a faster pace. He still had his arm around her waist to make sure she didn't fall, but she did question him more than he had thought she would.

"We can try," Jon responded and she bit down on her bottom lip for a moment. "The men cannot get away with treating you as such."

It was then when Anya blinked profusely at his words; "Are you a knight?" she asked him.

Jon's lips did quirk once he heard that. The girl knew nothing of knights or ladies. She only knew what she had been told. Jon suspected she was still living in some childish fantasy where a knight rescued his fair lady. He knew how Sansa loved those tales.

"Not quite," Jon replied. "I do carry a sword, but I am not knight. Crows are not knights."

"So who can be a knight?" she asked him, her brows furrowing and Jon stepped over a fallen tree. He reached back for Anya, taking her waist and helping her to climb on top of the fallen trunk and then jump down.

"Not men of the Night's Watch," he replied. "South of the Wall there are knights...men who sit on top of horses and fight."

Jon only seemed to confuse her more as she stood still and continued to stare up at him.

"Do you not sit on a horse and fight?"

Shaking his head, Jon knew that it would be difficult to try to explain things to her. He took another moment to let her steady herself on her feet before he simply offered his hand as the snow levelled out. Her fingers were bare and Jon could sense she was cold through the leather of his gloves.

"We do, but there is a difference," he assured her. "Men of the Night's Watch are not free men like knights. We serve the Wall."

"Why do you want to serve the Wall?" Anya wondered. "I heard that you could never take a wife or father children. You have to spend all your time stuck on a wall of ice."

"Some of us do not wish to take a wife or father children," Jon informed her. "There is honour in being a man of the Night's Watch."

"I never said there wasn't," Anya defensively replied. "I just don't understand it."

"Some do not," Jon muttered to her and noted how they were almost back at the camp.

He kept hold of her hand and she stopped her questioning once she saw the men come into view. She looked between all of them, taking in their features as she did so. They all eyed her with confusion and Jon coughed before looking down to her. He noted how she tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced down at the snow beneath her feet.

"Where did you find the girl?" a gruff voice asked.

Jon looked across to Locke before releasing Anya's hand from his. The girl instantly folded her arms over her stomach so that her fingers rested underneath the cloak Jon had given her to wear. She wondered if he was cold.

"She is Craster's daughter. Her name is Anya and I found her in the forest running away from the Keep. She is to stay here with the horses whilst we attack Craster's Keep."

Jon declared his words and Anya looked between the men. They all looked ragged and weathered. She wondered what she looked like to them. She saw faces of men who didn't particularly want to be in the middle of a snow covered forest. She couldn't blame them. She had spent most of her days wondering what it would be like to be free from the Keep.

"You took one of his wives?"

Jon looked over as Eddison spoke and Grenn shrugged from behind his shoulder. Shaking his head, Jon was about to speak before Anya beat him to it.

"He never took me," Anya replied. "I am no wife of his."

"As she says," Jon nodded in agreement with her. "We leave soon so prepare yourselves. Anya says there are eleven men at the Keep, but most of them are permanently drunk. Karl will be the difficult one to kill."

"And Rast?" Grenn wondered back.

"He's a coward when it comes to it," Jon said confidently. "We managed to get him to leave Sam alone that time he threatened to hurt him. He isn't the one we need to worry about."

There were grunts of agreement as the men dispersed. Anya noted the control which Jon had over them. It was as though his word was law. All but one turned away, and Anya looked over to the one with the black hair and pointed beard. His face seemed lecherous and his eyes were looking her up and down like a piece of meat. It was the same stare Craster used to grant her with.

"You need to promise me that you will stay here and keep hidden. I will try to bring your family back to you," Jon demanded from her and she shook her head at him.

"My family never had much care for me. They hated my mother for always being Craster's favourite. It wasn't until she spoke against him...quietly raised me to believe there was a better life...it was then when he killed her and they all said how she had it coming. I never spoke to any of them after that. They were all so willing to do his bidding...spread their legs for him..."

"And you weren't?" Jon checked from her and she shook her head.

"He didn't want me after mother died," Anya spoke in a hushed tone. "He only kept me to make my life a misery."

"Well," Jon awkwardly replied after a few moments of silence, "you are safe now."

"Yes," she whispered and turned on her heel before looking over her shoulder and back to him. "Thank you."

...

How long had the men been gone? Anya didn't know. She just knew that night was well and truly upon her as she stood with a white horse and stroked its fur back. It nuzzled against her hand a few times, something that had never happened before. She smiled at it and looked around; making sure that no one was near her.

She had been paranoid ever since they had left. She always swore she heard noises and there was never anything there. She suspected it came from living in fear of Craster. She often heard the man at night. He snuck through the room and picked a girl he wanted to warm his bed. She would lay awake and wonder whether he would go back on the words he spoke and take her. It had been a life of constant fear, and it was not a life she intended to go back to.

"Look what we have here."

Anya turned on her heel and looked behind her, the sight of the well built man bringing fear into her veins. She noted how his lips curled and his eyes twinkled as he moved towards her. She bolted as soon as possible, running through the snow as fast as possible.

"Not so fast, beautiful."

His words haunted her and she felt his arms around her waist, stopping her from advancing any further. Anya yelled loudly as she tumbled to the snow, her dress clinging to her body as he slapped her across the face.

"We never had our fun earlier," he spoke lowly, his mouth near her ear.

She pushed at his chest, trying to get his weight from her. He straddled her waist, his hands tugging her gown from her shoulders and pushing Jon's cloak from her shoulders.

"No...get off of me..."

"You really are spirited," he spoke in her ear, his mouth engulfing it after a moment. She felt herself wretch as his teeth tugged at the skin on her neck. "Your whore sisters accepted this like good girls...but not you..."

She tried to kick at him again and she felt his cold hand wander down to her bare breast. He groaned as he felt her soft skin and continued to kiss down her neck, leaving wet marks to glisten against her pale skin. Slowly, he moved his hand down to the waistband of her skirt and Anya began to scream again. It earned her another slap, but she failed to care.

"So long since a woman fought me," he whispered, his face now pressed in between her breasts, his beard scratching against her skin as Anya continued to sob loudly.

She closed her eyes for a moment, her hands still hitting at his chest. It was only when the weight suddenly disappeared from her body did she look up. The man had seemingly disappeared, but Anya knew something was amiss. She knew it as soon as she heard his loud screams ring through her ears. Looking to the side, the sight of a white creature caught her eyes and she watched as it tore into the man's neck. Flesh and blood covered the white snow, tainting it as the creature growled lowly.

Anya pushed herself to her feet, stumbling around as the wolf finished with the creature. She recalled seeing a white creature like it before. She remembered it from Craster's Keep. It had been one of the crows' creature. She kept still as it advanced towards her. Her hands balled into fists by her sides and her gown was askew over her body as it stood in front of her and tilted its head to the side.

Anya lowered herself to kneel in the snow again, her body cold and her clothes wet. She held her hand out to the direwolf and it rested its chin in her palm. Her fingers roamed its fur and it closed its eyes in content.

"Anya!"

The scream of her name snapped her attention from the wolf. It didn't take long before she saw Jon racing towards her, two men behind him. He bent at the waist and panted for breath at the sight of her, but then he noticed his direwolf. Ghost moved back to Jon and the two of them looked at each other as though they had a special bond which could not be broken.

"I think we found Rast," Edd grunted out, nodding towards the corpse in the snow.

Grenn scoffed and Jon finished petting Ghost for a moment, noting Anya wore nothing but her thin gown. He grabbed his cloak from the floor and wrapped it over her shoulders again, helping her to her feet.

"Did he hurt you?" Jon fretted.

She shook her head, her teeth chattering as Jon ran his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to warm her up. Her hair was damp around her face and small drops of water fell down her slender neck.

"He didn't get chance to," she whispered. "The wolf..."

"Direwolf," Jon corrected her. "He's called Ghost."

"He killed him before he could do anything," Anya spoke and Jon nodded to her.

"Thankfully," he added on. "You're freezing."

"I did just roll in the snow," she added on and Jon acted with haste, knowing what could happen if her situation was not dealt with. He took a moment to dare to wrap her into his arms.

She exhaled loudly at the warmth of his body whilst Grenn end Edd grinned to each other. Jon glowered at them as the girl continued to shake. He dared to take hold of both of her hands into one of his and hold them tightly against her cheek and near his neck. She bit down on her tongue, hoping that it would stop her teeth from chattering.

"Did they survive...your men...my aunts...cousins?"

"Most of my men fell, but we saved the women. They burned the Keep down and didn't want to come with us."

"Hm," she muttered, gulping loudly as she dared to move the top of her head to rest against Jon's neck. "Where will they go?"

"I told them South of the Wall was the safest place," Jon informed her. "I cannot force them to return with us."

"Us?" she checked and Jon chuckled, the vibrations echoing from his chest to her cheek.

"I hardly think it is safe for you to be alone out here," he told her and she shrugged against him. "You can come to Castle Black and then decide what it is you wish to do."

Grenn and Edd sighed lowly and moved over to the horses, leaving Jon to hold the girl in his arms as he tried to warm her up. He didn't know how long he stood there for, but he couldn't help himself from thinking of the previous girl he had held tightly to him. She had ruined his vows and almost ruined him. Ygritte was still out there somewhere. Jon just didn't know where.

...

A/N: Thank you so much to DarylDixon'sLover, xxxRena, Kcrane, Naomi97, jean d'arc and CupcakesAndAlice for reviewing the first chapter. And thank you to everyone who is following. I do hope you will let me know what you think of the first chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Anya was given a horse of her own, but all she could do was to stare at Jon as he told her that. He looked back to her with a furrowed brow before running the back of his hand down his stubble covered face. He wondered if she had ever seen a horse before in her life.

"I have no idea how to ride that," Anya whispered and Jon nodded to her.

Grenn and Edd had ridden ahead, declaring that they would pave the way and let Jon and Anya catch up. Jon knew what ran through their minds, and they were wrong about it. Jon had known the girl for less than a day; the last thing on his mind was getting his hands under her gown. He shook his head in disgust at them as they smirked and left.

"It is easy," he promised her. "Do you want me to help you up?"

"How?" she wondered in a mumble and Jon took it upon himself to bend down and lace his hands together.

"Put your foot in that silver part there, and then put your other foot on my hands. I'll help to push you up," Jon instructed her.

He watched her as she tentatively held the saddle and did as he said. It was only when he was pushing her fully upwards did she shriek in fear. She gripped the saddle anywhere she could and Jon lifted his arms up to clasp her waist. He made sure she remained seated whilst she moved her hands to his shoulders, not too sure whether she could control such a creature.

"It is higher than I had thought," she said.

Jon noted how her gown was still sopping wet. Sighing, he kept her waist in his gloves fingers and helped her back down from the horse. He could leave her on the creature and she would die of cold or falling and breaking her neck. She kept her hands on his shoulders and looked at him quizzically.

"You can ride with me," he said gruffly. "Horseback clearly isn't your strong point, and you're still freezing."

"Fine," she mumbled and Jon helped her onto his own white horse.

Ghost remained stood, looking at the pair of them as they wandered around in the snow. Jon sat behind Anya, his arms around her and holding the reins. She took his waist into her arms, noting how muscular he truly was. The hilt of his sword protruded from its sheathe, the intricate detailing of it enough to make Anya wonder who could have forged such a thing.

"Do you think they will be safe? My...well...family?" she wondered and Jon shrugged awkwardly against her.

He felt her move closer to him, her cheek buried in the crook of his neck for warmth. He moved his chin, doing the best not to let it drop and rest on the top of her head. He kept his eyes straight ahead, wondering how to answer her question. He had two choices. He could be truthful or he could lie to her. He didn't know which one she would prefer.

"They travel in a pack and are strong after enduring Craster for all those years," Jon's ragged voice spoke. "I do not know what will happen to them.

"The crows mentioned something about wildlings before," Anya whispered. "Is it true that they have an army larger than any ever seen before?"

"I don't know about that," Jon replied to the inquisitive girl and her questions. "I do know that they have an army, but we will try to stop them before they do anything."

"What is it they want to do?"

"Are you always so full of questions?"

"Yes," she flatly replied. "Mother used to moan at me for never being quiet. She said I could talk for Westeros."

"She was right," Jon mumbled. "You need to be careful once we reach the Wall. There will be men there who may not appreciate you like you deserve."

She bit down on her bottom lip for a few moments and ran her hands together, trying to create enough friction so that she could warm herself. She continued to bite down on her tongue, knowing that it wouldn't take long before the crow tired of her and her talking. Her mother always did say she had a smart mouth and it would get her into trouble one day.

"Craster said women shouldn't be appreciated. We should be used how men want to use us," she replied and Jon merely shook his head, unable to hold that view with her.

He refused to believe that all men were so torrid. He knew that he wasn't, but he had been raised to respect women. He had two half sisters he cared for and respected. Sansa may not have been his favourite, but Arya had always been there for him. She was wild and carefree, never caring for anyone's opinion or attention.

"Craster was a fool," Jon replied. "I have two sisters south of the Wall who I care for very much."

"You have family?"

"Aye," Jon nodded. "I have quite a large family...well...I did have. My half brother and father have died. I have two other half brothers and two half sisters who are somewhere south."

"Half sisters?" she continued to push him and Jon bowed his head, finally allowing his chin to rest on the top of her flat brown hair.

"I am bastard born," he informed her. "My father was Lord of Winterfell and my mother was no lady. I never knew her, but I knew my father. He was a good man until his head was chopped off."

"What?" Anya wondered back and Jon watched her as she moved from the warmth of his body and looked up to him, true horror on her face. "I thought you southerners were more civilised."

"And I thought you were uneducated, but you use these big fancy words."

"I like to think I am slightly educated," Anya said. "My grandmother knew how to read and write. She wasn't one of Craster's daughters...but he made her his wife. She was a wildling who had fled something. I never knew what. She taught my mother how to read and my mother taught me. I don't know who taught my grandmother. No one told me...mother always said it was a conversation for when I was older."

"I see," Jon simply spoke back, wondering what had been so special about her grandmother that Craster had deemed her worthy of keeping. He kept his views to himself though.

"So why did your father lose his head?"

Jon sighed and began to retell her the story of the war of the Seven Kingdoms. It took him a while to explain every meticulous detail to her. She seemed more interested in the little details; asking him what a Hand of the King was, and asking him why his brother would not marry his betrothed. Jon answered her questions as the sun rose over them. It was then when she began to tire, finding everything he had told her strange in comparison to her simple lifestyle.

"How far is it to the Wall?" Anya dared to ask him after minutes of silence.

"A few days' ride," he responded. "We should catch up with Grenn and Edd soon. We can sleep for the night when the sun sets again. They should have caught some food."

Jon was not wrong. Grenn had managed to pick supplies from Craster's Keep before they left. He built a small fire in an area which wasn't covered in snow. They sat around it, Anya mainly hogging the warmth as she tried to dry out her hair and gown. Grenn and Edd stared at her in wonder before handing her some rabbit to eat.

"So, you decided to come with us to the Wall and not go with your family," Grenn finally spoke, doing his best to make conversation instead of sit in an awkward silence.

She looked over to him along with Jon; the Snow boy mainly wanting to know where the conversation was heading.

"There is nothing here," Anya said. "I've wanted to go south of the Wall for a long time. I think it could be exciting to see the sights there and find a new life."

Grenn was almost jealous of the enthusiasm which radiated from her voice. It took him a few more moments to gather his thoughts.

"Rast was a bastard," Edd finally declared. "I'm glad Ghost ripped him to shreds. Did the direwolf scare you, m'lady?"

Grenn snorted at that and Edd turned to look at him as Anya picked at the rabbit they had given her to eat.

"She's no lady," Grenn spoke. "She's as common as you and I."

"A little courtesy never hurt," Edd responded. "Did that not touch you that where you came from?"

"Enough," Jon interrupted before they could continue with their bickering back and forth. "I believe her name shall suffice. Is that not right, Anya?"

"Hmm?" she asked, almost distracted by the taste of the good food. "Oh, yes, Anya is fine...I was simply glad that Ghost was there when I needed him. He seems like a nice boy...wolf..."

"He's nice to those he likes," Jon agreed, noting how his wolf was laid down in the snow and resting. He didn't know how he had gone so long without his trusted direwolf. "I think you should count yourself lucky he likes you."

"He doesn't like many people at the Wall. Then again, most of them are rapists and thieves-"

"-Grenn," Jon interrupted; glowering at his friend for a few moments as Anya nervously pulled at her hair and finished chewing her final mouthful of rabbit. She took a few minutes to fold her legs underneath her body and then lean on her elbow.

"But Jon will keep you safe. He's good at that," Grenn concluded.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence until Jon decided that they should get some rest. Anya lay on the hard ground and closed her eyes, longing for sleep to come to her. Jon did the same, only a few metres from her. Sleep didn't come too easily to him, but he hoped he would sleep better once he returned to the Wall with knowledge that Bran was not at Craster's Keep.

It didn't take long before Jon noted how Anya began to roll around in her sleep, his fur cloak askew over her body. He watched her for a while, noting how she withered and looked scared. She was clearly having some form of nightmare. Jon didn't know whether to bother waking her or to leave her to sleep it out. He opted for the latter, only noting how she sat up straight after a while, panting for breath.

She looked over to him and he stood up and offered her his hand. She took it silently and Jon led her from the two sleeping forms on the floor.

"A walk after a nightmare tends to help," Jon whispered to her. "I used to take walks often when I was in Winterfell."

"Did you often have nightmares?" Anya asked back.

"Not as often as I do now."

"And what do you dream of now?"

Shaking his head, Jon didn't know if he was ready to divulge that part of his life with the girl just yet. He scarcely knew her.

"I dream of Craster," Anya finally broke the silence when she realised he wasn't going to tell her anything. "I dream of him finally having me and the pain of it. I remember when he had my mother...she would tell me not to fret...but I saw how he treated her. I would lay awake every night and wonder if he would take me once she had gone. He never did, but I worried about it. I still do...and then that bastard who tried to have me when he had gone...all the men I have known have been horrid...until I met you...and you promised to look after me."

Jon listened to her talk with such conviction. She stopped walking and crossed her legs at her ankles, shaking her head back and forth before Jon rested his hand on her shoulder.

"Not all men are bad," he promised her and she shrugged to him.

"Most are, I would suspect," she whispered softly. "Anyway, we should sleep. I don't want you to be too tired for the journey tomorrow."

"There was a girl called Ygritte," Jon finally spoke when he saw Anya turned her back on him. "She was a wildling and I fell in love with her when we were sent on the mission beyond the Wall. She is the one who keeps me awake at night."

Anya had to admit the shock at hearing him speak so freely. Even Jon was shocked, but he couldn't help it. Most of his thoughts contained Ygritte. She was angry with him and he knew that, but he also knew that he could not be with her; not like she wanted.

"But I am a man of the Night's Watch. I can have no woman or children."

"But did you want to?" Anya wondered back. "Is that what you wanted with Ygritte?"

Jon shrugged and walked back to Anya and the pair of them made their way closer to Grenn and Edd again.

"I took a vow," Jon continued.

"A vow which prevents you from loving someone," Anya concluded. "I'm not too sure whether you are heroic or crazy."

Grunting, Jon wished he had never said anything as he took to the floor once more. Anya did the same, her back to Jon again before she turned her head over her shoulder and whispered to him;

"If you truly loved her then no vow would have mattered...I think..."

Jon's eyes widened and he noted how she turned back from him and closed her eyes once more. Perhaps she was right, but perhaps she was wrong. Jon wasn't truly sure which.

...

A/N: Thank you to Kcrane, Naomi97, xxxRena, Daryl'sDixonLover for reviewing the previous chapter, and to anyone who is following. Do let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

"She has red hair and pale skin...it almost blends into the snow...she carries a bow and arrow and shoots at anything that looks relatively threatening to her," Jon informed Anya.

The two of them wandered through the snow, each of them holding the reins to a horse. The sun was beating down over them and Jon had decided to give the horses a slight rest. They now walked in the snow, speaking of different matters. It was only then when she asked him of Ygritte.

"There must be more to her than that," Anya complained to him. "A lot of people have red hair, pale skin and can use a bow and arrow."

"Aye," Jon agreed. "I don't know what it was about her that I loved. She was different to every girl I had met before."

"I didn't think that you knew any girls," Anya responded. "You said that you lived at the Wall."

"Before," Jon clarified with a small smirk as he turned his head to the side to look at her. "The girls at Winterfell never paid me much attention. They always preferred my brother. Robb was a good man and...he had that pretty look that girls love..."

"What did he look like?" Anya pushed him.

"Curly brown locks...a strong jaw...blue eyes..." Jon said, struggling to admit to himself that he almost couldn't picture his own brother. Robb was gone now, but he must have changed since the last time Jon had seen him.

"He sounds a dream," Anya teased, her arm bumping against Jon's purposefully.

Rolling his eyes, Jon peered at Anya through his hooded gaze. He couldn't help but smile at her smile. There was something contagious about it. She laughed heartedly and often found herself snorting when she did so. He had expected her to be nothing but a plain and ordinary woman, like the majority of them at Craster's Keep. They would not dare say boo to a goose, but Anya was different. She was opinionated and lively. Although Jon supposed she had not suffered the same fate as Craster's wives. He had refused to touch her. He had not ruined her innocence or her spirit.

"You'd have loved him," Jon nodded. "He's what you would think to be a true knight."

"Was he really?" she teased him again and then her tone turned sombre. "I am sure he was a good man if he is anything like you."

"You think I'm a good man?" Jon checked back with her and she nodded.

"How can you not be? You saved me and everyone else."

"But I broke an oath."

"You broke an oath for love," Anya responded. "Although, I do think that you should still be with the girl if you loved her truly...but I sense it is a sore subject..."

Grunting, Jon didn't respond to her words. He kept his eyes ahead and on Grenn and Edd as they rode on. He said nothing and Anya wished she had never spoken of this mysterious Ygritte considering that it seemed an awkward thing to converse of. He took another moment or two to think of something to say, but Anya already beat him to it.

"Is it difficult to wield a sword?" she asked of him and Jon's brows furrowed.

He ran a gloved hand down his chin before his hand rested on the hilt of Longclaw. Anya continued to stare up to the sky and Jon queried why she had asked him such a question. She really was full of surprises.

"Not with training, but you need stamina," Jon responded. "There is a lot to wielding a sword."

"The men at the Keep didn't make it look difficult," Anya replied. "They sliced at anything that came in their way. Craster didn't know how to wield a sword. He liked to pretend he did, but I don't think he knew anything about it."

"Why do you ask?" Jon wondered.

"I've always wanted to have a go," she nonchalantly shrugged. "Sewing and cooking never interested me."

"But killing does?"

"Not killing," Anya quickly pointed out, "just the skill that comes with it...I don't know..."

Jon smirked before he stood still, tiring of fighting to walk in the snow. Anya did the same and he pulled Longclaw from its sheathe. Anya stared at it before Jon moved over to her. He dropped the blunt edge of the blade into one hand and then kept hold of the hilt in the other. Anya moved her hand over the blade and Jon looked down to it.

"It was Lord Commander Mormont's sword. The pommel was a bear for his House's sigil, but he turned it into a direwolf for me."

"Like Ghost," Anya said and Jon nodded.

"Exactly like Ghost," he agreed with her. "He gave it to me when I saved his life. It's Valyrian Steel too."

"What does that mean?" Anya's gaze found his.

"It is a special kind of metal. It's sharper than normal steel and it light."

"Impressive," Anya said and Jon dared to hand it over to her.

Anya looked confused for a few moments before she took hold of the hilt of the sword and held it in her hands. She was surprised to find how light it actually was. It was almost as though she wasn't carrying anything. Jon watched as the sun glimmered against the steel before he held his hand out to take it back from her.

"You're right," Anya agreed with him. "It feels nothing like I thought it would. I'm surprised no one has taken it from you yet."

"Thank the Gods," Jon replied. "Going back to normal steel after using this wouldn't be worth thinking about. Anyway, we should get a move on. Grenn and Edd will be miles ahead by now."

"Of course," Anya agreed and Jon sheathed the sword.

...

The Wall was nothing like Anya had seen before. She looked on it with such wonder that Jon almost forgot how magnificent it had been the first time he had seen it himself. Jon helped Anya down from the horse before leading her through the Wall towards the lift to Castle Black.

"It's Thorne you need to look out for," Grenn informed Anya as she walked by his side and Jon strode ahead of them. "He's a nasty bastard...him and Janos Slynt...both of them might not be happy that you are here."

"I don't think anyone is particularly happy," Anya responded as they walked through the courtyard.

Men had stopped training as they stared at Anya as she remained flanked by Edd and Grenn. Both of the men stared at those who sneered or looked threatening. Grenn knew that half of the men would try to have Anya in their bed by the nightfall. She was an easy target for them. That was the part which he suspected bothered Jon. He was a man with honour and he did not take kindly to rapists.

"They usually aren't," Edd promised her. "But try not to worry too much."

"What is this, Lord Snow? You brought back a new whore with you?"

Anya almost felt anger course through her veins. She looked up to the wooden form of balcony above her where a tall man stood. He had a receding hairline and the hairs on his head were slowly turning white. He was tall and well built, dressed in furs and warm clothes. His eyes were narrow and harsh, and staring straight at Anya.

"She is one of Craster's daughters," Jon said, taking the steps up and Anya followed him. "I found her as Rast was about to rape her."

"And you thought it wise to bring her back here?" he checked.

"She is safe here. She is not safe out there," Jon responded. "I did what I thought was right."

"Of course you did," Thorne sneered and Anya stood over Jon's shoulder. "And you think that she is safe here; one woman at the Wall?"

"We have taken vows," Jon reminded him. "She is not to be harmed by the men. If they do hurt her then it is punishable by death."

Smirking, Thorne looked at Anya and she instantly felt fear inside of her. Something told her that she was not safe here. She could sense that she wasn't safe. There were too many lecherous looks and men with no care for honour.

"As you say," Thorne said. "No doubt I could give her a coin and she would spread her legs for me when I asked it."

"I would not," Anya snarled back.

"Anya," Jon warned her, knowing that Thorne was temperamental at the best of times. He turned back to look at Thorne; "I will take her to a chamber and set her to work."

"So you will take responsibility for her?" Thorne asked. "Was one wildling not enough?"

Jon ground his teeth together and ignored Thorne. Jon took Anya by her elbow and steered her inside. He kept his grip tight on her as Anya did her best to stop him from walking so fast. He finally led her to where the spare chambers were kept, opening the door to one and urging her inside. She kept silent as he slammed the door shut and she knew what she had to do.

"I cannot stay here," Anya told him, her body now shaking at the thought of what could happen. "I saw how they looked at me. I saw them...and..."

"No," Jon shook his head. "No one will touch you, Anya."

"How can you promise that? Did you hear what he said to me? Did you hear him?"

"I will let Ghost stay with you," Jon promised her. "I will check on you whenever I can and make sure that you are not harmed."

Anya sunk down onto the bed in the corner of the dark and cold room. Jon sighed at the sight of her. Had he done the right thing in bringing her back her? Had he been foolish? He sat down next to her and noted her wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. She thought that the North had been cold, but she could see that Castle Black was just as cold.

"I escaped Craster and now you bring me here where a hundred men want nothing more than to have me in their bed because they took a foolish vow!" her yells were enough to draw attention and she stomped across the room, kneeling by the fireplace and tossing logs into the fire.

Jon stood then and saw her sobbing on the floor. She collapsed from her knees to her behind, the back of her hand covering her mouth as Jon settled down on the floor next to her. He tossed logs into the fire and then watched her for a few moments, wondering what he should do.

"I don't know what to do," Jon admitted. "I will keep Ghost with you and...I will do what I can..."

"Let me go south," she urged him. "Do not make me stay here."

"Wildlings are south of the Wall too," he replied. "Nowhere is safe...not now...this is the best place for you."

"Then you really do give me no option, do you?" she mumbled.

Jon took another moment before he moved a hesitant arm to her shoulders. She allowed him to keep it there as they sat by the fireless fireplace. Anya took a moment to relax around his arm and Jon squeezed her shoulder, remembering that was how he used to comfort Arya when she was angry.

"I will do what I can to keep you safe."

"I know," Anya reluctantly admitted to him.

The two kept quiet and Anya wasn't sure how long it was until she felt her lids close, and her body slump against Jon's.

...

A/N: Thank you to xxxRena and DarylDixon'sLover for reviewing the previous chapter. Thanks to everyone following but please do let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

Jon felt Anya finally fall asleep, his body supporting all of her weight as her head collapsed against his shoulder. He looked down to her for a minute and slowly moved, doing his best not to wake her. He stood up and gently moved his arm to sit underneath her legs, his other arm delicately moving down her shoulders to her waist.

He slowly picked her up and carried her to the bed, depositing her on the hard mattress. He picked out a blanket from the wardrobe and draped it over her body. Not once did she stir or question what he was doing. She remained sleeping, curled in a ball as light snores escaped her mouth. Jon left the room shrouded in darkness and set out on his mission to find Ghost.

It hadn't been too difficult; his direwolf currently sat at the end of the guest chamber's corridors. Jon bent down to his height and Ghost came closer, looking him in the eye. Jon often wondered what ran through his direwolf's mind. What did Ghost truly think of everything that he heard or saw?

"I need you to look after Anya tonight," Jon urged the creature, stroking his fur affectionately. "You're to keep her safe if anyone tries to hurt her."

Nuzzling against Jon's palm, Ghost seemed to understand what it was his master wanted from him. It took Jon another couple of moments to push himself to his feet and look sternly down to Ghost, making sure that he understood what was being asked of him.

Jon opened Anya's door quietly and Ghost slipped in. Jon watched to see him settle by the foot of the bed. He curled up on the floor and lowered his head to the floorboards, his eyes still set on Jon in the candlelit hallway. Nodding, Jon left Ghost and made his way to the dining hall, hoping that there would still be some food left.

Thankfully Edd and Grenn had taken it upon themselves to save Jon a bowl of stew, calling him over as soon as he arrived in the dining hall. No one else was in the vast room, but Jon was grateful for the silence. He noted Sam sat opposite the two boys and he sank down to sit next to his friend.

"I'm glad you're back safe," Sam commented and Edd rolled his eyes.

"You're not the only one," Grenn responded. "Where have you been? We've been sat here for ages."

Jon picked up the spoon from the middle of the table and dropped it into his bowl. He kept one arm across the table as he leant forwards and slurped up the stew.

"I had to stay with Anya for a while," Jon responded. "She's frightened someone will try to rape her."

"Is she one of Gilly's..." Sam trailed off, not entirely certain what relation they could possibly be.

"Relatives," Jon nodded, searching for the simpler answer. "Aye, she is, but she's different. Craster never took her as a wife and her grandmother was not one of his daughters."

Sam's brow furrowed, wondering why Craster would take a woman who was not his own daughter as his wife. That didn't seem to be in his style. He kept quiet on the matter, his mind turning back to Gilly and he wondered what she was going through. He only hoped that he had done the right thing in trying to keep her safe. He felt as though he had.

"It's not the men she should be worried about," Edd piped up. "Thorne was in here earlier with Slynt. You wouldn't have liked the things he was saying about her."

"I can imagine," Jon muttered, a grimace crossing his features. "Well, Ghost is with her now. I wouldn't dare them to try anything."

"They wouldn't," Sam shook his head. "Thorne is the acting Lord Commander. He knows that he has to set an example."

"Do you honestly think that would stop him?" Edd scoffed. "He is anything but an example. Half the men can't stand him. Slynt is just as bad. He's come off his high horse from King's Landing and can hardly stand being equal to the likes of us."

"But he never touched Gilly..." Sam trailed off.

"He never had a chance," Sam replied. "You knew that sending her south was the best thing to do."

"So why do you not send her south?" Sam quickly asked back and Jon kept silent at his words. Why did he not send her back? "You knew that wildlings had breached the Wall but you let me send her south."

"I did not know that they had taken to pillaging villages and allowing cannibals to roam free," Jon quickly retorted with a firm stare to Sam. "I did not know what you had planned to do with Gilly. You acted on your own accord. I stopped you from going after her because you would be branded a traitor."

"Jon is right Sam," Grenn spoke, trying to break the tension between them both. "Gilly is with other women. She has them to look after her now. If the wildlings were to catch any of us escorting her south then they would have us killed. It isn't just her we need to protect out there."

"I'm sure Gilly would-"

"-She is not going south of the Wall." Jon finally snapped, tiring of Sam trying to argue with him.

He dropped his spoon into the bowl and stood from the bench. Jon didn't look back at any of them; instead he simply carried on walking away from the dining hall. He made his way to his own chamber, knowing that he shouldn't have lashed out at Sam. He simply couldn't help it sometimes.

...

"Scrubbing floors?"

She spoke to Jon as though she was some highborn lady and he was the one who should be acting as a servant. He held the bucket of water out towards her and she shook her head at him, annoyance coursing through her veins.

"What else did you think you would do?" Jon wondered back. "You are no lady, Anya."

She arched a brow then and Jon did his best to backtrack, his gaze shifting around as he did his best not to look her in the eye.

"I mean that you are not highborn," he quickly spoke. "You are a lady...but not a highborn lady...just a lady...I mean that-"

"-Watching you squirm is just as fun as I had thought," Anya responded, a tug of her lips. "But...I don't know what I thought I would do. I had no money...but I thought that I could make a life south...scrubbing their floors..."

"One day," Jon weakly promised her. "Anyway, how did you sleep?"

Anya took the bucket of water from Jon and set it down on the floor of the empty dining hall. She also took the brush from his fingers and dropped it into the soapy water. Kneeling on the floor, she rolled her dress sleeves up to her elbows and set about scrubbing the floor.

"Ghost snored, but it was nice to have him there," Anya said and Jon sat down on the edge of a bench as she cleared the dirt from the floor. "I do my best not to notice people who stare at me."

"And are there a lot?"

"What do you think?" Anya responded.

"A lot," Jon mumbled.

"Lord Snow."

Jon almost groaned as he heard Slynt approach them. He stood up from his seat as Anya remained on her knees. She bowed her head, her hair covering her face as she did so. Sniffing in the cold, she narrowed her gaze onto the distinct patch of wood which was now clean after mercilessly scrubbing it.

"Should you not be emptying a chamber pot?" Slynt wondered from him. "I doubt Thorne would be best pleased to find you in here with your wildling whore."

Biting her cheek, Anya did her best not to retaliate and yell out how she was no whore. She kept silent, her cheeks turning red with anger. Jon said nothing for a moment, knowing that it would not be in his best interests to be polite instead of saying what he really thought.

"I was simply telling Anya what to do," he informed Slynt who snorted loudly.

"I will tell her what to do...so you can run along..."Slynt said; a smirk on his face.

Jon glowered and Anya peered up to him. He kept his eyes on her for a few moments, wondering whether or not he should leave her alone. His instinct was telling him not to. He didn't trust Slynt one little bit. He hoped that he gave Anya a look which told her that he would not be far, but he could not be certain. She remained on the floor as Jon left and hid around the doorway.

It was then when Slynt made his move. He knelt in front of her, but she kept her gaze low. Moving his hand, Slynt took hold of her chin and forced her to look at him. Her stomach churned as his fingers continued to hold her in place.

"Did Snow fuck you; is that why he is keeping you close?"

"He didn't touch me," Anya responded.

"I bet he got right between those creamy white thighs of yours," Slynt continued and his other hand ran along where the top of her gown sat, pulling the material down.

She remained still, fearing what he would do if she fought him. She would lash out only if he tried to do something, but until then she would keep still so she did not anger him further.

"Would you be wet for me if I had you?" Slynt continued to goad her, his fingers now running over the swell of her breasts. "And tight...it has been so long since I had a woman...and here you are...do you think you could do anything? Do you think that you could stop me? I could bend you over that table right now and have you."

Gulping, Anya kept still as his finger dipped in between her breasts and he moved his hand from her chin to caress her cheek.

"Lord Snow wouldn't save you," Slynt continued. "The men might have a go after me too. But we would pay you, of course. You'd part those legs for some coins, wouldn't you?"

It was then when he reached for her thighs, spreading them apart. Anya reacted quickly, slapping him across the face and clambering to stand up. Slynt cursed her and reached for her waist to stop her from moving.

"You're going to pay for that you little whore," he snarled into her ear and she shrieked loudly as his hands reached for her skirts and he dragged her body from the floor to pull them to her waist.

"Is there a problem here?"

Anya had never been so pleased to hear a new voice echo through the room. Slynt had managed to push her against a wall, her skirts gathered in his hands to reveal her underclothes. He dropped them and turned around. Maester Aemon stood with Jon by his side, the bastard glaring at Slynt who glowered back.

"You brought him to stop me," Slynt hissed and Jon cocked a brow.

"He did no such thing," Aemon lied back. "But I do hope that you were not intending on hurting the girl he brought here. That would go against your vows."

"Of course not," Slynt replied and Jon saw Anya lean against the wall, her hands holding her skirts. "The bitch needs to learn her place."

"I am sure she will," Aemon replied. "And it is discourteous to speak of a woman in such a tone. Perhaps you should get back to your duties?"

Slynt knew he was being dismissed by the blind old man, but he couldn't resist groping at Anya's backside, his eyes on Snow before he left. Jon kept his hand on the hilt of his sword as Anya seemed to slump against the wall. He couldn't describe what he saw on her face, only that he knew he had to do something more to protect her.

"Jon tells me that you are literate, child," Aemon continued.

"I am," she responded, wondering who this blind man was.

"Good, I am the Maester of the Wall...and I always need someone to help me to write out letters and read them to me. You can begin your new duties on the morrow."

"Thank you," Anya replied and Aemon gave a knowing smile to her and then to Jon before he turned and left, Jon guiding him to the door where another steward waited for him.

"Did he hurt you?" Jon asked as soon as he was alone with Anya.

He moved over to her and took hold of her by the shoulders, his grip almost tight but not enough to hurt. She shook her head at him and wondered why he looked so concerned.

"No...you stopped him..." she responded and Jon nodded.

"I saw Maester Aemon in the corridor and I asked him to come in and request you for his own...well...maid...I suppose..."

"Thank you again," Anya whispered and dared to move to kiss him on the cheek.

Jon kept stiff as he felt her lips make contact with his cheek. There was a familiar warmth to her touch that he didn't find unpleasant whatsoever. Coughing once, he placed his hand over his mouth and nodded to her.

"I should take you back to your chamber before Slynt comes looking for you," he mumbled and she nodded her agreement, wondering what it was that ran through Jon Snow's mind sometimes.

...

A/N: I cannot believe the response to this story! Thank you to Vixen1191, Anne, xxxRena, Naomi97, CupcakesAndAlice and DarylDixon'sLover for reviewing the previous chapter. I do hope you'll let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

Jon sat with Anya that evening in her chamber. He had brought her a bowl of stew for her supper. Slynt and Thorne had taunted him as he walked by them. He had listened to them, but he had done his best not to allow their words to bother him. He couldn't help but think how crude and rude they were. Slynt had been close to raping her, but had failed. Jon suspected that bothered him more than anything else.

"Ghost has taken a liking to you," Jon commented as he placed the bowls of stew down on the bedside table.

Anya was knelt on the floor, stroking the direwolf with long strokes as he nuzzled against her neck. She was smiling at him, wondering what she had done to gain his favour so quickly. Jon patted Ghost before settling on her bed, offering her his hand to help her up from the floor.

She laced her fingers into his, standing up before sitting next to him on the bed. He let go of her hand and reached for the bowls of stew. He handed her one and she began to eat the food slowly, chewing on the bits of meat in the stew. Jon did the same, looking to his lap as he did so.

"Ghost is a lovely direwolf," Anya spoke. "Do you think that Maester Aemon will allow me to bring him with me when I do my duties? I worry what will happen when I'm alone...Ghost is the only one who I..."

"He will protect you," Jon clarified. "I wish that I could. I worried about you when I heard you screaming...that I would be too late..."

"Even Craster never pushed me against a wall and lifted my skirts up," Anya muttered, folding her legs underneath her on the bed. "Do you think that he would dare to try anything again? He seemed like a coward to me."

"Most of them here are cowards," Jon scoffed back to her and she cocked her head to the side.

"Then why did you come here? You are no coward, Jon," she said and Jon wondered whether she had used his name before.

"Like I said," Jon shrugged, "I thought that it would bring me something...I don't know...I never belonged at Winterfell. I thought that I could belong here."

"And do you?"

"I don't know," Jon muttered, chewing on his food. "I've never felt as though I belonged anywhere, Anya. I don't know what it is like to belong somewhere."

"I know how you fell," she promised him and dared to rest the bowl in her lap of skirts. She moved a hand to rest on his arm, her fingers moving down the leather before she closed her eyes and thought back to Craster's Keep. "But I don't think I belong here."

"No," Jon smiled back to her as she went back to eating her stew. "A woman amongst thieves does not belong here."

"I don't think that they are all bad," Anya shrugged to him. "I liked Grenn and Edd. They were nice."

"Aye," Jon agreed. "They're good men. I trust them more than anyone else here."

"I hope not," Anya teased him. "I have done nothing to betray your trust."

Jon smiled as she nudged him again and finished her stew, placing the empty bowl down onto the bedside table, reaching around Jon to do so. He inhaled her scent, wondering what it was she smelt of. He detected some form of musty smell from the oldness of her gown which he had secured from laundry. But he could also smell the cold on her. She seemed cold all of the time.

Jon took a few moments to watch her stand up and wander around the room to grab more logs to throw into the fire. He should have done that for her, but she seemed more than capable of doing it herself. He watched her kneel on the floor whilst Ghost slept at the bottom of her bed on the ground.

"It is always so cold here?" Anya complained to Jon once she had rubbed her hands on her skirts and stood up after finishing keeping the fire alive. Jon nodded, finishing his own stew and placing the bowl inside of hers.

"Normally," he said. "You soon get used to it. I'll see if I can find a thick cloak for you to wear. The blue one you have is nowhere near warm enough."

"Thank you," Anya responded.

It was only then when she thought she heard a loud blast echo through the castle. She looked to her door and Jon stood up too, moving through the room to the small window which looked out and beyond the Wall. He couldn't see anything, but he didn't want to think about what the blast meant.

"How many blasts have there been?" Jon worried.

"I don't know," she replied. "One, I think."

"Stay here," Jon urged her and moved to the door.

She watched him go, her eyes widening as he swept from the room and she wondered what was happening. Ghost stood then and nudged at her legs. She settled back down on the bed and petted the direwolf, waiting for Jon to return to her. She was patient in the cold air, covering herself in her cloak in a feeble attempt to warm her body.

She didn't know how long it was before Jon returned to her, opening the door and then closing it. His black cloak looked covered in snow and his eyes were wide and stern. She remained stood and staring at him, her arms over her body as she waited for an explanation as to what was happening.

"The wildlings are closer than we had thought. They are south and north of the Wall," Jon commented. "We have a hundred men and no way to protect the Wall from them. I...I need to get you away from here."

"How?" Anya worried as Jon grabbed hold of her wrist.

She dug her heels into the floor, refusing to let him take her anywhere. He looked back to her as she moved her hand to his wrist, trying to get him to stop and think for a moment.

"If the wildlings are both sides of the Wall then how do you expect to sneak past them?" she asked of him and Jon gulped, his eyes scanning her face. "If you go out there then they will kill you. It is safer to stay here, Jon. It is safer to stay here than to go out and face them alone. Please believe me."

Sighing, Jon knew that she was speaking sense. She nodded sternly to him and then let go of his wrist before moving to the window. She looked outside, but everything seemed so quiet. It all looked peaceful that she found it difficult to believe that a wildling attack was about to take place. Jon watched her rest her fingers on the stone and peer into the distance.

"I will take you to Maester Aemon before the fighting," Jon assured her in a softer voice than normal. "You'll be guarded with him."

"Thousands of wildlings march on the Wall," Anya replied. "That's what you said, and there are a hundred men of the Night's Watch."

"I know," Jon said.

He was well aware of the numbers. He also knew that it didn't matter how good a swordsman he was; he could never outnumber the wildlings. The thought scared him, but he didn't know what else to do. He leant against the wall of her chamber before thinking to Ygritte. Would she be there? Would she attack? Would she want revenge against him for what he had done?

"I am sorry," Jon sincerely spoke. "I should have known that it was stupid to bring you back here."

She turned from the window and smiled sadly to him. "You did what you thought was best at the tame, and I came willingly. You did not force me here."

"No," Jon agreed. "I should go and train."

"It is night," Anya replied.

"And wildlings are about to attack. We need our strength and practice. There are young boys out there who have no hope of fighting, but I need to do what I can to help them."

"Of course," Anya agreed with him and Jon nodded stiffly.

"I shall be back later to check on you. Lock the door and stay hidden," he demanded from her and then swept from the room.

He made his way down the corridors until he came to the courtyard. The sky above was black; the only light came from the burning torches against walls and the small fires which had been built. Men were already training, swords clashing against each other with ferociousness.

"Is she safe?" Grenn suddenly appeared in front of Jon by the sword rack. "We heard how Slynt almost fucked her earlier."

"She is safe," Jon said and Grenn nodded with what looked relief in his gaze. "Ghost is with her to make sure."

"Good," Grenn mumbled. "Slynt has been going on about it all day. He wants the girl to be punished for what she has done. Thorne laughed and joked with how he had been so close to having a woman again, but I think he knows that punishing her would definitely not be for the best. Maester Aemon wouldn't allow it."

"He isn't the only one," Jon replied and reached for a normal training sword instead of Longclaw. "Men are going to die when the wildlings get here, Grenn. Lots of men."

"All of them," Edd suddenly appeared to Jon's left. "We have no hope of defeating Mance and the wildlings. Half the men here have never fought in a battle."

"You included," Grenn added on and Jon had to commend him for being able to make witty comments at such a time. "But they might spare some of us if we pledge fealty."

"I doubt it," Jon said. "Besides, we cannot pledge fealty to them. We are men of the Night's Watch."

"I'd rather stay alive," Eddd mumbled. "Do you think that half of them here haven't thought about dropping their swords and begging instead of fighting? Half of them are cowards and the other half are stupid."

"Which half are you then?" Grenn taunted.

"Neither," Edd replied with the faintest hint of a smirk on his face. "But we promise each other this one thing. We stick together in the battle. We have to."

"Agreed," Grenn quickly replied and they looked to Jon who nodded back at them.

"Agreed."

...

A/N: Thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, CupcakesAndAlice, jean d'arc and xxxRena for reviewing! Do let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

"I need you to stay in the room and do not come out until it is over. You can keep Ghost with you. I have left a sword in the room, but there are four guards outside. Fortunately Castle Black has a high tower which might work in your favour."

Jon spoke to Anya as he kept hold of her hand. He held her fingers tightly inside of his as they wandered along the corridors. Men were preparing for the looming battle as the sun rose over the Wall, beating down on it with such ferocity that Anya wondered how it didn't melt. Ghost plodded in front of them, snarling at any man who he did not like the look of. Anya remained a step behind Jon a time or two, unable to keep up with his long strides.

It was only when she felt a hand around her wrist did her hand slip from his. She turned in the hold and looked at the face of Slynt. His eyes were narrowed and his cheeks were red from rushing around in the cold. Anya was thankful that his fingers were covered with gloves so that she did not have to feel the coldness of his skin.

"Taking your whore for one final fuck, Snow?" he taunted and Jon rested his hand on the pommel of Longclaw. "Perhaps I can have her before this war? One final fuck..."

"Do you not remember your vows?" Jon snarled.

"No more than you remembered yours when you put your cock in that wildling girl," Slynt quickly retaliated.

Jon stepped in front of Anya, forcing Slynt to release her wrist with a quick tug of his arm. The men said nothing further on that matter. They merely glowered at each other before Jon took Anya's hand again and they commenced their journey. He looked back to her, noting how pale she had become before he slowed his pace to match hers.

"Slynt will come nowhere near you."

"You've said before," Anya mumbled and Jon took in a deep breath before they came to the long staircase in front of them. He stood to the side, noting how there was only room for one and a half person to climb the steps.

He gestured his arm out and Anya took hold of her skirts, hiking them up her legs to her knees where her boots sat so that she did not tumble back down the steps. Jon walked one step behind, silently urging her to be quicker as they went. They reached the top and Jon leant around Anya to knock on the wooden door.

"Come in," Maester Aemon called out.

Jon pushed the door open and Anya stepped in, looking around the room. She noted a vast fire was roaring in the corner near a desk. There was parchment strewn on top of every work surface, and glass bottles sat on shelves in the corner of the room. Maester Aemon sat in his chair by the fire, his hands gripping the arms of them as Jon pressed a hand to the small of Anya's back. She caught the glint of the sword on the table as Jon pulled the chair from the desk out. He gestured for her to sit and she did so, remaining on the edge of the seat.

"Where has Samwell Tarly gotten to, Jon?" Maester Aemon suddenly asked.

"He has gone to Eastwatch by the Sea to warn the men of the impending attack. Castle Black is their main location, but I do not know if they will try to take another castle. He can send word from there about the wildlings."

"Good," Maester Aemon gave a stiff nod and Jon took another second to inhale a sharp breath. "And you, my dear? You are to stay here and keep this old man company?"

"So long as you shall have me, Maester Aemon," she replied and Aemon gave a small smile.

"Then we have much to discuss during our wait," he informed her and she did her best to smile. She knew that he could see her smile, but it was not for him. It was for her. Her nerves were on edge and fear continued to radiate through her body.

"I should go," Jon said. "I have four men coming to guard you at the door."

"Did Thorne agree to it?"

"Thorne does not know," Jon responded. "I doubt he would care too much. He is busy yelling at anyone who stands in his way. Hopefully you should be safe."

"And I wish the same for you, Jon Snow."

Nodding, Jon began to turn around, only to be stopped by Anya grabbing his wrist. She stood up from her chair and kissed him on the cheek once again, not entirely sure why she had felt the sudden need to do so. There was something about Jon Snow which she could not quite understand. She nodded her head softly, inclining her head as he stared at her once she had pulled back.

"Be safe," she whispered and Jon remained stoic.

"And you," he responded and she dropped his wrist.

He left the room and scolded himself. Why did he have to fall in love with someone like Ygritte? He knew how dangerous she was. He knew that she had terrible things. She could be kissing him one minute and then have no hesitance to slit his throat the next. And then there was Anya. She was the complete opposite to Ygirtte. Yes, she was not some shy and timid maid, but she was no killer. Yet Jon was a killer. He had killed men. He had taken lives just like Ygritte had: only he didn't do it to innocent men.

Anya watched the door shut and she sank back down to the chair. She leant forwards and clasped her hands together, her head bowed lowly as she thought back to Jon and what could happen later on in the day. She could feel exhaustion take hold of her as Ghost came to sit by her feet and she stroked him softly.

"Jon fought with the wildlings, my dear," Aemon suddenly declared. "He knows how they think. He has prepared the men for them."

"I know," Anya replied, "but I also know that having a hundred men is less than a thousand wildlings."

"Yes," Aemon responded with a tight nod. "There is nothing more we can do to stop them. We cannot pick up our swords and fight. We would be a hindrance rather than a help."

Anya stood up then and took hold of the blade which had sat on the table. She picked it up and held it in her hands. She had to admit that it was quite tight in her grip. She placed it back down and settled back on the seat, lapsing into silence as time slowly passed by. It wasn't until she heard a loud bang did she jump from her seat. Maester Aemon peered up slightly.

"One blast..." he whispered.

Anya moved towards the door, pulling it open to note the four guards stood there. They still wore their black cloaks; their eyes were set firmly on her as she looked between them. It took her a few moments before she dared to open her mouth;

"What is happening?"

"Get back inside, m'lady," one said and Anya was shocked to be so politely addressed.

"What was that blast? Are they here?"

"Please, m'lady," the tallest one said and moved to the top step to block Anya from moving any further forward. She didn't struggle against him as he ushered her back into the room and slammed the door shut on her. She did thump the wood and then move to the window.

"Can you see anything?" Aemon asked from her.

"Nothing," she complained to him. "Do you think that they are here? Surely it is too early, Maester Aemon."

"Nothing would surprise me about the wildlings," he shook his head at her and she took another moment to look back to him, wondering what was going to happen to them.

It wasn't long after that when she heard Ghost lowly growl and roars from outside made their way through the window. Anya didn't know how long the shouts continued on for. She didn't know what the noises were or how the war could still go on for such a long period. If what Jon had told her had been true then the wildlings should be winning with no issues. They had enough men.

"My dear, how long do you think they have been fighting?"

"I do not know," Anya replied. "The sun looks to be at its highest peak. Surely it has gone on for too long now."

"Yes," Aemon mumbled back to her and she furrowed her brows as yells seemed to grow louder.

It was only then when she realised that she could hear them through the door. Ghost kept silent and still, standing in the middle of the room with a ferocious presence. Anya heard the clattering of swords, the noise harsh and cold against her ears. Not once did her eyes leave the wooden door in front of her.

"Get into the corner and hold the sword," Aemon instructed her. "Ghost shall be a great help should they decide to attack us."

"Do you think they will?" Anya worried as she moved to take hold of the sword.

She moved to the corner of the room behind the door, holding it tightly in her hands. Ghost finally barked loudly, the noise haunting and dangerous. Anya closed her eyes as she heard the door creak open. She looked down to the floor, waiting for the footsteps to enter the room. When they came into view she mustered enough courage to move. She swung the sword in her hand tightly, but it clashed against the metal and fell from her fingers. A strong arm gripped around her waist before she could scramble on the floor to grab it.

"You won't be needing that, girl," a gruff voice spoke in her ear and she whimpered lowly, fearing what had happened.

"And may we have the right to know your name?" Aemon wondered and the man stood tall, blood trickling down his brow from another swordfight.

"Stannis of the House Baratheon," he spoke and released Anya, watching as she fell to the floor. "And I have just helped to save you from a wildling attack."

Anya scrambled on the ground, wondering what she should do. More men entered the room and one grabbed the sword Anya had been wielding as Ghost came to stand by her side.

"Stannis Baratheon," Aemon spoke in a low voice. "What is it you are doing here...and fighting with the Night's Watch?"

"That is a story for later. For now we have the dead to dispose of and wildling captives who need to bend the knee," Stannis spoke harshly.

Anya finally stood up before she saw him enter the room. She had to admit that she did feel something clench inside of her at the sight of him. He was dishevelled, his face covered in cuts and his cloak hanging loosely from his figure. But he was alive. His orbs found Anya's orbs and he wondered if he saw relief pass through her body. But he did not smile, nor did he make any move to comfort her. He remained rooted to the spot, thinking about the woman who had just died in his arms.

Ygritte was gone and the Wall was still safe.

But nothing could console Jon right then.

...

A/N: Thank you to ZabuzasGirl and xxxRena for reviewing the previous chapter. I do hope that you will let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

Jon had left the room before Anya could say anything to him. She had been forced to sit back down in the chair next to Maester Aemon and listen to a man they had called the Onion Knight explain what had just happened. Anya did her best to understand. Although she could not quite comprehend what they were speaking of, nor did she understand the importance of some Iron Throne. Shaking her head back and forth, Anya finally managed to excuse herself.

It was only when she wandered down the corridors did she find Grenn leant against a wall. His face was cut and blood dripped down his skin. Anya felt horror rise inside of her as she bolted towards him. He only had his hand to his face to stop the blood. One hand covered his eye and the other was in a ball by his side.

"Grenn...come here..." she urged him and she lifted her skirt up. She took the knife from its sheathe which sat around his waist. She tore at her dress with the blade and balled the fabric up.

"Anya," he whispered her name. "You're safe."

"But you aren't," Anya replied in a small voice. "Hopefully the cut is not too deep. It doesn't look like it is."

She moved his hand from his eye and pressed the cloth against the skin. She kept silent before pressing her free hand to his cheek to draw his gaze to hers. She remained mute for a few moments, looking back and forth down the corridor.

"Come on," she said. "We need to get you to sit down."

She wrapped an arm under his shoulders and helped him to move down the corridor. She kept hold of him tightly as they passed towards the hall. She noted all of the bodies strewn on the floor, other men picking them up and carrying them away. Anya had no idea what the men were going to do to the bodies. She could smell smoke, but she didn't investigate. She was more concerned about Grenn.

"Sit down here," she urged him and she leant forwards to keep hold of the cloth on his face. She remained on the ground in between his parted legs and Grenn leant forwards.

"Jon," he mumbled his name. "Where is he?"

"He left before I could speak to him, but he is safe, I think," Anya promised Grenn and he nodded to her.

"But he lost her...she died...she did this to me and someone shot at her..."

"Who?" Anya wondered.

"The wildling with red hair," he spoke. "She was here, Anya. She died..."

"Gods," Anya whispered, recalling Jon's solemn looking face. "I...I should go and find him...shouldn't I? Maybe not...he might not appreciate it..."

"He should not have fallen for someone like her," Grenn muttered. "I saw her. She killed the innocent cooks and would have killed more. She murdered innocent people...and he fell for her...he knew what she was like."

"You sometimes cannot help who you fall for, Grenn," Anya replied.

"Thank the Gods above, Anya."

The new voice interrupted them and Anya looked up to see Edd. She stood up and allowed Grenn to hold the cloth before throwing her arms around Edd. She had never thought that she would do that to him, but a lot had happened. He hugged her bag by keeping his arms around her waist, thankful for a friendly face after nearly dying from a wildling attack.

"Edd," she replied. "Are you hurt?"

"Do you think some wildling scum could hurt me?" he did his best to joke back with her before looking down to Grenn. "Some of us are stronger than others, right Grenn?"

"Shut up," Grenn mumbled and Anya stepped out of Edd's grip.

"They're burning the bodies in the courtyard," Edd continued. "I saw Jon a moment ago. Stannis...he took her body and Jon asked for another moment. I warned him what people would think if he cried over her body. He has vows to uphold. I know how hard it is for him, but I was trying to look out for him."

"Where is he now?" Anya dared to ask Grenn.

"He went to your chamber," Edd spoke. "He knew he would be in private there."

"Why did he go to my chamber?" Anya wondered.

"It's obvious," Grenn spoke. "He wants you to comfort him. He's grown fond of you, Anya."

"He has known me for a few days," Anya rolled her eyes. "Besides, aren't there are more men who need tending to? How many were injured and how many know how to treat the wounded?"

"Hundreds," Grenn replied and Anya knew what she had to do.

Jon didn't want her. Jon wanted solace. He didn't want her onto him. She had known him for a few days and she doubted that the men here knew how to do a simple stitch. Fortunately Anya had been cursed with multiple siblings who injured themselves on a daily basis. Her mother had taught her to stitch a wound.

"Then I should get to work."

...

Jon had curled on Anya's bed as soon as her body had been taken from him. He had cried for a long time. He knew that it was foolish for him to love her. She was a trained killer and she would have killed him. She would have killed him if the wildlings had outnumbered them. Jon should have known.

He didn't know how late it was, but it was only when the sun had set and the room was darkened when he saw Anya return. She held a candle in one hand, and some form of shawl was draped over her arms. She closed the door to her chamber and saw Jon was laid on her bed.

She stood in front of the door for a moment, the candlelight barely doing anything to light the room. Biting down on her lip, she wondered what she should say to him. Should she say anything? She decided to keep silent before moving into the room. Jon remained numb and still, watching as she placed the candle down on the bedside table.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled her boots from her feet and dropped the shawl to the bed. She then made a move to stand up and pull the covers back from the bed. Jon sat up then and Anya watched him lean against the headboard.

She dragged his boots from his feet and made work of helping him remove the layers of armour which he still wore. He kept silent as she did so, assuming that she had heard what had happened.

It was only when she had stripped him down to his breeches and shirt did he speak.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"There are injured men," Anya replied, her mouth dry. "They needed help. What are you doing here?"

"I don't know," Jon muttered. "I didn't know where else to go where I could be alone. Stannis has men everywhere...he...I do not know what to say to him..."

Smiling softly to him, Anya took a moment to run her hand down his cut face, stroking his curls from his cheek. The warmth of her hand was a nice contrast against Jon's cold cheek and he rested his hand on top of hers which sat on his cheek.

"She was a wildling," Jon whispered. "She was no good for me."

"But you loved her," Anya replied and Jon nodded.

"I think I did. She had done terrible things, Anya...things that I don't..."

"Sh," Anya urged him as she saw him begin to cry once more.

She moved with haste and took his head into her hands, cradling it against her shoulder as she felt him cry.

Jon had never felt so weak before. He had lost so many people recently. He had lost all of those who loved him. Who could he keep safe now? Who could he protect?

He looked up and into Anya's soft gaze as she began to shiver in the cold. She had gotten herself into a sweat after tending to so many men, but she was beginning to cool down now. Jon pushed his feet underneath the covers and took hold of her by the waist. She wondered what he was doing as he pulled her body to lay down against his. His form engulfed her as he kept his arm over her waist. She felt his groin against her backside but said nothing of it.

"Can you blow the candle out?" Jon's gruff voice asked in her ear.

She managed to move under his arm to lean from the bed and blow the candle out. Darkness engulfed the room and Anya moved her hand to rest on top of Jon's on her waist. She kept still as Jon finally fell asleep and he whispered against her ear;

"Ygritte."

Sighing, Anya wondered why he wanted comfort from her, but she did not question him. She didn't dare question him. Closing her own eyes, she willed sleep to take her, but it was difficult to come with Jon's heavy breathing in her ear. Groaning, she moved to lie on her back and Jon tightened his grip on her waist in his sleep.

Anya shut her eyes slowly and waited to sleep, her thoughts still with Jon.

...

A/N: thank you to xxxRena, DarylDixon'sLover, ZabuzasGirl and CupcakesAndAlice for reviewing. Do let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

Jon had left before Anya awoke the following morning. She opened her eyes and noted that there was no warm body next to her, nor was there anyone breathing on her neck. She sat up and propped herself up by her elbows, yawning loudly as she did so. It was only then when she realised what had happened the previous day. Ygritte had died in Jon's arms. She had passed away into the next world.

Anya still wore her dress from the previous day and she decided to keep wearing it. She pushed herself from the bed and noted that the sun streamed in through the slit of the window. Making the bed, she turned her head around when she heard the door open.

Jon walked in, covered in his black cloak and dressed as though he was poised for another battle. Anya hoped there would be no more. She didn't know if she could handle the thought of another war. He looked to her and then sunk down to sit on her bed as she did her best to start a fire in the small fireplace. She twirled the sticks in her hands and Jon leant forwards, his mind still on Ygritte.

"You know, don't you?" Jon said. "You knew that I was a fool to love her."

"No," Anya replied. "I do not know what made you love her. People fall for each other all the time."

"But I knew," Jon scolded himself.

"And blaming yourself for falling in love with her won't help you now, Jon," Anya quickly told him. "Would Ygritte want you to blame yourself for loving her? I doubt it, Jon. If she loved you then she would tell you to remember her, but not to spend the rest of your days mourning her."

Jon couldn't believe the speech which had tumbled from Anya's lips. He had never thought that she was so clever before. But her words did make sense. Ygritte would be here and tell him that he knew nothing if she could see him now. She would be angry with him for leaving her, but she would still find it in her heart to forgive him. She had always known who he was.

"I am not saying that you should forget her straight away...Gods I don't think you can forget those who you care for...but...it does get better. Losing someone hurts, but it does get better."

Jon remained silent and Anya gave up trying to light a fire and knelt by his side. She folded her arms on the bed and peered up to him, a slim smile on her pale face as she tried to get him to copy the motion.

"You lost your father and your brother," she reminded him. "I lost my mother. People are taken from us all of the time, but those people would not want us to quit. They would not want us to stop living or fighting for what we believe in."

Jon felt her tap his thigh and then she stood up and he grabbed her by the wrist. She continued to smile warmly at him and Jon knew that she was right. Everything Anya had said was always right. He looked at her warm eyes and kind face. He looked at everything about her. He should have fallen for someone like her. He should have loved someone who was kind and fierce, but did not kill with ease.

It was then when Jon moved with haste and lowered his lips to latch on Anya's. The girl was shocked for a few moments as Jon's arms wrapped around her waist, his hands holding the small of her back to keep her pressed against his body. She kept her orbs open as she moved her hands to his upper arms, her fingers wrapping around his thick arms as she tried to push him from her. He was relentless: she would give him that. His lips continued to move against hers, his eyes closed too harshly that she knew he was not enjoying kissing her.

She felt his teeth pull at her bottom lip and she finally managed to push him from her.

"Jon," she gasped for breath and he shook his head with realisation of what he had just done.

Closing his eyes, Jon turned away from her and placed his hands on the back of his head. Anya continued to stare at him, her hands wiping at her mouth as she did so.

"I shouldn't have done that," Jon replied. "Why did I do that?"

"I don't know," Anya whispered. "Don't worry about it. I won't tell anyone and it didn't mean anything. Maybe you were...I don't know...looking for comfort..."

"Maybe," Jon muttered and Anya placed her hand on his shoulder.

He looked down to her pale fingers and turned around to face her, knowing that he should apologise to her, but he couldn't find the words. She smiled once more and kissed his cheek.

"I should go to Maester Aemon," she said. "You should try to get some more rest and forget about what just happened. It didn't mean anything, Jon and I am not upset about it."

Nodding, Jon watched her go without another word. It was only when she was outside and settled against the wall did she closed her eyes and remembered what it had felt like to have Jon's mouth move against hers. Her fingers trembled against her previously untouched lips. How would he feel if he knew that he had been her first kiss? Would the guilt eat him up some more?

Anya shook her head and began to make her way to Maester Aemon. The last thing Jon needed was more guilt.

...

"Jon Snow is responsible for you, is he not?"

Anya didn't know what she had done to be summoned by Stannis Baratheon. She had been warned by Aemon to speak to him like a king. Anya had not known many kings, but she knew that he had no throne to sit on and he had no crown on his head.

He was sat in the dining hall which was currently empty. Thorne was next to him on his left, eyeing Anya with suspicion as she kept silent. Slynt had shown her in, leering at her and allowing his hand to grope at her backside for a few moments. She had kept silent as he did his best to move his other hand in between her legs over her skirts, but Stannis had summoned her by then.

"She is his whore," Thorne continued, trying to gain favour with Stannis. "Sucks his cock whenever he asks her to."

"I do not," Anya replied in a meek voice.

There was something about Stannis. She didn't know what it was, but she knew that she didn't want to anger him or upset him. She was reminded of a stern man when she looked at him: a man who did not take kindly to liars.

"And you were a wildling?" Stannis ignored Thorne.

"No," Anya said. "I was a daughter of Craster. We lived beyond the Wall, but we were no wildlings. Craster's Keep was taken by men of the Night's Watch...bad men...I escaped and Jon Snow found me and brought me here to keep me safe."

"The girl is a liar by nature," Thorne continued. "I didn't want her here. She is violent and a whore. Slynt said that he found her trying to seduce him in here once...sat on a table with her legs spread...and then she had the nerve to slap him."

"That was not what happened!" Anya yelled.

"Are you questioning a man of the Night's Watch?" Thorne asked.

"Janos Slynt?" Stannis checked, recalling him from when he was a gold cloak in King's Landing. Even Stannis didn't trust Slynt. He never had done and he never would do. His loyalty was cheaper than a whore in Littlefinger's brothel.

"Yes," Thorne said.

"And these men who attacked your home...where are they now?" Stannis continued, shifting uncomfortably on his seat.

"Jon Snow killed them all with Grenn and Edd and some other men who died," Anya said. "No one else would come and save us. The men here are not honourable men like they would have us believe."

"Now listen here, you little slut-"

"-Enough," Stannis growled lowly as Thorne continued to glower. "Men of the Night's Watch are not as honourable as they once might have been...speaking to a woman in such a manner...a woman who has been abused by your men. Am I wrong?"

Thorne could not deny that, but he did continue to look at Anya. His glower was enough to make her see that she was in trouble.

"Anya...go and find Jon Snow. I have an important matter to discuss with him...and thank you for your time to explain how you came to be here."

"You are welcome, your Grace," Anya said with an incline of her head.

Stannis stood too and wandered over to the next door. Thorne followed Anya to the door, his hand grabbing her by her dress as he pushed her outside and into the path of Slynt. She stumbled as Slynt caught her waist and Thorne slapped her across the face and she grunted and Slynt began to mock her.

"Oh darling," Slynt taunted her. "Did the King not believe your story?"

"He believed her," Thorne snarled. "The little whore made him question me and interrupt me. Take her back to Snow and have some fun with her on the way. It might make him angry and lash out...and we all know what Snow is like when he's angry."

Nodding, Slynt knew that Thorne was desperate to be rid of Jon. He took Anya by the shoulder and pushed her forwards, stopping in a hidden alcove on the way. The corridors were cold and Anya could feel her heart pounding in her ears as Slynt pushed her against the wall and his hands moved to her dress. He tugged it over her shoulders and she kicked and screamed, but no one heard her.

"They are all burning the dead outside...down below...there's no one to hear you..." he promised her, his lips engulfing her earlobe and she shuddered as his hand grabbed at her breast.

"I would have you right now if I could...take your maidenhead from you...watch the blood trickle down your filthy thighs..."

"No," she snapped and his lips attacked her neck as his hands moved to pull her skirts up to her waist. She shrieked as he pulled at her underclothes.

"You shouldn't fight," Slynt warned her. "Otherwise I might have you right here."

"I would like to see you try," Anya whispered back and she acted with haste.

She kicked him in between the legs and took that moment to run from him. She ran down the corridors as Slynt stumbled after her. She raced down the corridors, almost tripping over her gown as she went. She came to her chamber which was empty and closed the door, locking it. It didn't take long for the pounding of the door to begin.

"Open the door, you little whore!" he demanded from her.

"Leave me alone!" she roared back, cowering in the corner as he continued to bang on the wood.

Stifling a sob, Anya closed her eyes and turned her back on the wood. She moved into the corner of the room and the bangs continued. It didn't take long for him to work the door open. The locks were old and rusty. Slynt rushed in and dropped his sword to the ground and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Get on the bed," he demanded her.

"No," Anya sobbed loudly, wondering where Stannis was now.

Slynt ignored her and ripped at her dress as he threw her onto the bed and she clawed at him. It earned her another slap, but she didn't care. She continued to fight him, her hands balled into fists as his groin pressed against her hip and his hands mercilessly tugged at her breasts.

"Jon!" Anya yelled his name. "Jon!"

"Lord Snow isn't here now," Slynt promised her.

"He might not be, but I am."

Slynt's body fell on top of Anya before it rolled off of her and she saw Grenn stood over him. She sighed in relief as he offered her his hand. She took hold of it and he held her close to him, covering her with his cloak when he noted that her gown was askew on her body. She saw that he had knocked Slynt out with the hilt of his sword.

"I was on the way to thank you for fixing me up," Grenn told her. "Glad I came when I did."

"Not as glad as I am," Anya whispered and kissed his cheek.

He let her huddle close to his chest as he held her for a few moments. For once he had beaten Jon: he was the knight in shining armour.

...

A/N: Thanks to everyone reading and please do let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

Anya had taken a seat in the small little room which Grenn said was used as a spare writing room off from the library. He had sent Edd to find Jon, knowing that he would be most aggrieved if he was kept out of the conversation about what they should do to Slynt. Stannis had ordered for him to be punished, but he had kept his life. Anya only knew that he would angrier than before now that he had been punished.

She sat beside Grenn on the window seat, his arms around her shoulders as she still wore his cloak. He had managed to sneak away from his duties to look after her. It only made sense to keep hidden.

"Anya."

Her name rolling from Jon's tongue brought back the memory of when his tongue was actually inside of her mouth. Blushing, she lowered her gaze and tried to forget about that. She found that she did when she remembered what had just happened.

"What did he do to you?" Jon seethed, kneeling in front of her on the window seat to move his hand and pick her chin up. She looked him in the eye and sniffed loudly, shaking her head back and forth as her hands trembled in her lap.

"He didn't manage to do anything," she promised Jon. "Grenn found me before he could."

"Good job," Grenn said gruffly. "He had her thighs wide open-"

"-I see," Jon interrupted before Grenn could make anything worse.

The room they hid in was small and quiet, candles burning lowly as the night fell over them. Anya was huddled against Grenn's side tightly, her slim body shaking in fear as she closed her eyes and did her best to forget what could have almost happened.

"Edd is down in the courtyard. Stannis has asked for a meeting...I am to speak privately with him later on," Jon said and Grenn nodded.

He gave Anya's shoulder another gentle squeeze before he stood up and left her alone with Jon. The black haired young man waited until the door was shut before he sat down next to Anya and felt the full force of her sobs. His arm was around her at the same time she pressed her face against his chest and sobbed loudly, her hands clinging onto his upper arms.

"Sh," he urged her in a soft tone. "I have you...you're going to be alright..."

Anya didn't know why she was sobbing so loudly. Grenn had saved her before anything could happen, but she still allowed her mind to wander. Her mother had always told her not to let her mind wander. It was foolish and dangerous, but impossible at that moment in time.

"I have to get you away from here," Jon said in a low voice. "I need to do something to stop anything from happening to you."

"He's determined to make me pay," Anya shook her head. "I think he would find me if I thought of leaving. He has Thorne on his side, Jon. He is the acting Lord Commander."

"Acting," Jon repeated. "Stannis has declared himself the King. If I can gain his favour then I can send you somewhere South where you will be safe and away from men who want to do nothing but hurt you. I cannot protect you all the time, Anya."

"And I don't ask you to," Anya sniffed and pulled back to look him in the eye for a few moments.

"You're a sweet girl," Jon mumbled down to her, his arms still around her waist as his hands ran up and down her back and she shivered at the feeling of her gown brushing against her skin as he completed the motion. Shivering softly, Anya moved to rest her head against Jon's shoulder again.

When had she turned into such a feeble woman? She had never relied on anyone before. She remembered that her mother had warned her about relying on people, but here she sat, clinging onto Jon Snow as though he was the only thing that mattered to her. He was to a certain extent. He had been kind and had taken care of her more than she cared to admit.

She had spent her entire life living in Craster's Keep. She had spent that time doing her best to avoid his wrath and not make snide comments. She thought that Craster was the worst man there was. But she knew that there were worse than him. He was bad, but he was not the only one.

"I will stay with you until Edd or Grenn come back," Jon said in his low gruff voice as he released Anya from his grip. "Perhaps it would be for the best if you hid here tonight. No one would know and I would come back and keep watch."

"Are you certain?" Anya asked.

She watched as he pulled the desk out of the way and into the corner of the small room. He managed to move the small armchair out of the way too, dragging the blanket which sat across it and depositing it on the floor opposite the fire and against the rows of books. He pulled the pillow from the chair and placed it at the end of the blanket against the bookshelf and nodded.

"Certain," he assured her. "I know it is makeshift and the room is not big, but you need somewhere to sleep."

"Thank you," Anya responded and she settled down on top of the blanket, kicking her boots from her feet as she went.

Jon removed Longclaw from around his waist and sat down next to her on the floor, leaning against the shelves and squinting into the fire across from him. Anya pushed the pillow under her head and lay down as Jon pulled his cloak from his shoulders and draped it over her body. She continued to look up to him as he forced himself to smile down to her.

"You're one of a kind, Jon Snow," she yawned and Jon chuckled.

"Perhaps that is a good thing," he spoke back.

"No," she shook her head. "Do you not miss home? Do you not wonder what you could have done if you had stayed at Winterhell."

"Fell," he corrected her. "And I do sometimes, but I was a bastard. I was always treated differently to my other siblings. I could never inherit Winterfell or become a lord."

"So what would you have done if you hadn't joined the Night's Watch?" Anya continued to push him and he shrugged before shifting to lay down slight, his elbows propping him up.

"Married a pretty lady and been lord of her castle," he said. "I didn't want that. Girls always preferred Robb and Theon over me. They thought that they were handsomer and Theon was a charmer. Robb was a bit solemn, but girls liked that about him."

"But girls didn't like you?" Anya continued to push and Jon shrugged.

"Not really," he said. "I'm a bastard, Anya. They looked at me and they saw the product of lust and wanted nothing to do with me."

"They didn't know you very well," Anya replied in a soft tone.

"No one did."

"Even Ygritte?" she pushed him and Jon turned away for a moment.

Did Ygritte know him very well? Did she know what he liked to do? Did she really know anything about him? He had never spoken of Robb to her, nor had he told her what it felt like to be a bastard. But he had told Anya everything that he could think of, and she sounded interested. She had never ended a conversation with a lewd comment or by telling him that he knew nothing.

She was the complete opposite to Ygritte.

"No," Jon reluctantly spoke. "Not even Ygritte knew everything that I wanted from life. None of it matters now though."

"Are you sure?" Anya checked with him and he nodded at her.

"It's like you said," Jon spoke, "we never forget the people we love, but we do have to move on."

Anya smiled and tried to raise his spirits again as she rolled onto her back and looked to the ceiling above her. "Gods, I am wise."

Jon laughed when he heard her and she saw the creases in his forehead and the dimples in his cheeks. Perhaps she could bring a smile to his face more often. He looked better when he smiled.

"Aye," Jon said with a small laugh. "You're wiser than you know."

They both lapsed into silence and waited for Grenn or Edd to return. They kept silent and Anya soon fell to sleep and Jon watched her intently like he had done that morning when he woke before her. He didn't know what it was about her, but there was something enchanting that he couldn't quite put his finger on just yet.

...

A/N: Thanks to everyone reading and do let me know what you thought of the filler chapter!


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